


Until It's Gone

by cuddlyharkness



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet Ending, Brotherly Love, Canonical Character Death, Damian Wayne Feels, Death, Gen, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Sad, Wayne Manor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12122658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlyharkness/pseuds/cuddlyharkness
Summary: What's worse: not knowing what you have until it's gone, or knowing exactly what you have and not being able to save it?





	Until It's Gone

People often talk about not knowing what they have until it’s gone. They go on and on about stories of love and loss, about the tragedy that lies within never knowing what you have until you just don’t have it anymore. The heartache that befalls the poor widow when her partner is laid to rest, the agony of a man who watches the love of his life walk away from him forever, even the pain that comes with watching a dear friend fade away and become distant. Or perhaps the regret that comes to a person that loses everything they had, where they’re left to scrounge what they can to survive on the streets and in the alleys. Unaware of the things they have until they lose them.

However, there is no greater pain that knowing exactly what you have before you lose it. There’s nothing that hurts more than the guilt that raises bile into the back of your throat as you watch the hearse drive away, fully aware of how large a chunk of your life will be missing from then onward. There are people that grip so tightly, that try so hard to keep what they love safe and secure, but still lose them due to the tides of fate demanding an outcome. 

Tim Drake is one of those people.

* * *

The air that danced in between the strands of his hair was cold that October morning, smoothing it’s chilly fingers across his scalp and worsening the growing headache behind his eyes. His shoes, new and shiny and black, crunched on the leaves as he followed the family that walked ahead of him, his brothers solemn and silent as they approached the fresh patch of dirt that looked so out of place in the back garden of Wayne Manor surrounded by the colorful leaves and flowers. 

Nobody said anything as they stopped, nobody seemed to breathe as they all stared at the cold stone firmly stuck into the ground. The words were new, still shiny on the smooth surface.

_Damian Wayne, beloved brother and son. May his wings carry him to better places._

Tim felt the guilt inside his stomach twist and tighten into knots, the headache behind his eyes pounding against his skull. It had been a bad idea to drink the night before, but he had needed to forget for a while. Needed to forget how hard he’d tried to protect his brother, how hard he’d tried to get him to hold on for just a little longer because help was on its way and he was going to be just fine as long as he stayed awake and-

Tim felt the hand on his shoulder that he hadn’t realized was shaking so violently. He heard the quiet whisper of Dick’s voice telling him that it was okay, felt Jason squeeze his shoulder just a little tighter when he heard a sound so very foreign come from his own body. He was sobbing, and somehow he’d missed the tears that were streaming down his face. 

Tim felt his knees weaken as he stood there, his entire body shaking with the force of the heavy, ugly noises that came from somewhere so deep inside himself that he felt like a stranger in his own skin. It wasn’t until Jason suggested they go inside and get warm that his sobbing quieted. Dick seconded the suggestion, soothing Tim with the gently action of running his fingers through his hair. Tim, however, shook his head, instead stepping closer to the gravestone. He felt his older brothers staring at him, but they agreed to leave him be for a time. Tim needed more time to grieve, and they thought it best to give him that right in private. 

Once the two had departed and Tim heard the doors slide closed, his world crumbled apart in a matter of seconds. He sat down in front of the headstone, curling his legs against his chest as he stared at the words and reread them again and again. Finally, he spoke, as if he were speaking to Damian himself. 

“You know, for all the shit I gave you, I didn’t really hate you.” His voice croaked in the silence, the wind ghosting across his skin and chilling him to the bone despite the heavy fibers of his blazer. “I did feel threatened by you, felt like you were replacing me. But I got used to it. You were my little brother, and even if I never said it out loud, I did love you. You were family, and when you weren’t busy trying to grow up too fast, you were a pretty cool kid.” 

He spent what felt like a good few hours sitting there, talking to the stone and spilling exactly what he felt to the empty breeze. He spoke of the senseless guilt that twisted and coiled inside him, apologizing for not being there sooner.

It wasn’t until he got up to stand and wipe his wet eyes that he felt as if he saw something, the wisp of an image, flicker in and out of existence in front of the headstone. Tim could have sworn it looked like Damian, could have sworn he heard the kid’s voice calling him an idiot like he always did, before it disappeared from his sight again. Tim didn’t believe in ghosts, but he knew what he saw. 

Standing there in silence, he stared for a long moment at the grave before he bowed his head and took a deep breath. 

“Go on then, brat. You earned your chance to rest.” With that, Tim turned on his heel and started the trek back to the mansion. What he didn’t see as he walked away was the ghost of a young, roughly thirteen year old Damian sitting on the top of the tombstone, watching as his older brother’s shoulders remained heavy with guilt. Nobody heard it, nothing but the October wind, but the ghost’s voice was clear.

_”Sure I have, Drake. But I definitely won’t be going anywhere until I know you’re going to be okay. It’s what brothers do, isn’t it?”_

**Author's Note:**

> So I was feeling kind of down so I wrote some sad Damian and Tim feelings. I'm a sucker for ghosts though, so yeah. Can probably be considered shippy, but that's up to interpretation.


End file.
